


If You Can't Say it at Christmas

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Love Actually Fusion, Developing Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: “Well, I’m sure we’ll be getting to know each other quite well, Det. Carisi.”“I sure hope so,” Carisi said, a little too eagerly, and instantly looked horrified by how unreasonably excited he had sounded at the prospect. “Shit, I just meant—” His blush deepened. “And now I’ve said shit. Twice. I’m making a great first impression, huh?”Barba hid his smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “You could’ve said ‘fuck’ and then we’d have been in real trouble.”Carisi grinned sheepishly. “Thanks,” he said. “I had the worst feeling this morning that I was gonna fuck up on my first day—” He broke off, and the assembled officers had difficulty hiding their laughter. “Goddamnit.”Or, the Love Actually AU that I just couldn't resist writing.





	1. Six Weeks Until Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barbaXbenson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaXbenson/gifts).



> For Erika — a very Merry Christmas! (And thank you so much for a prompt just vague enough that I could dovetail it into this!!)
> 
> Though a Love, Actually AU, you should be fine reading this without having seen the film.
> 
> Unbeta'd and written in an awful hurry, so I'll be correcting typos as I go along. Your patience is appreciated.
> 
> This _will_ be two chapters only, damnit, the second to be published next week at some point. I'm sticking to it this time. ~~It may end up being three, though. Because of who I am as a person.~~
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

“Have I mentioned that this is absolutely ridiculous?” Barba asked, for about the hundredth time.

Olivia rolled her eyes and gave him a look. “Only about a hundred times,” she said. “Luckily for the both of us, you don’t get to make that call. Threat Assessment took one look at that latest round of death threats—” Barba rolled his eyes, but Olivia ignored him. “—and decided they were real enough to merit a 24/7 protection detail for at least the conceivable future.”

Barba sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Liv, it’s almost Christmas. What idiot is going to be stupid enough to gun down an ADA during Christmas?”

“It’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” Olivia told him, a slight smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “I never would have pegged you as someone who starts celebrating Christmas as soon as November 1 rolls around.” Barba glared at her and Olivia’s smile grew. “Then again, maybe you just need to work on your excuses.”

“And I suppose the fact that I don’t _want_ a 24/7 security detail counts for nothing?” Barba sighed.

Olivia’s smile faded, her expression turning serious. “Frankly, when it comes to keeping you alive, what you want counts for very little.” There was nothing really for Barba to say to that, so he settled for huffing a sigh and following Olivia outside his office to meet the police officers who had apparently drawn the short straw assignment of tailing him for the foreseeable future in hopes of keeping him alive despite whatever homicidal maniac was threatening to kill him.

Or homicidal maniac _s_ , plural.

Barba wouldn’t be surprised if there was more than one idiot gunning for him.

The assembled cops were mostly uniformed officers, and he shook their hands as Olivia introduced him. But at the end of the group was a tall, absurdly attractive man with graying blond hair and blue eyes that sparkled as he shook Barba’s hand. “And this is Det. Dominick Carisi, Jr.,” Olivia started.

“Call me Sonny,” Carisi interrupted, dimples creasing in his cheeks as he smiled at Barba, whose traitorous heart absolutely did not start beating harder in his chest at the sight.

“Det. Carisi is on loan from the Joint Terrorism Task Force,” Olivia continued, as if she hadn’t just been interrupted. “And he’ll be the detective in charge of your detail.”

Barba looked at Carisi appraisingly. “Joint terrorism?” he repeated. “I didn’t realize death threats against an ADA counted as terrorism.”

Carisi smiled and Barba melted inside, just a little, at the sight of those dimples again. “They don’t,” Carisi assured him. “I just happen to be the only one available who has some threat assessment experience. And the only one who wanted the gig.”

Olivia cleared her throat. “In any case, I assure you that Det. Carisi is a professional,” she said, a warning note in her voice, and Barba saw the blush that rose in Carisi’s cheeks.

The sight was delectable.

“And he’s more than capable of babysitting you for the next few weeks,” Olivia added.

“Right,” Barba said. “Well, I’m sure we’ll be getting to know each other quite well, Det. Carisi.”

“I sure hope so,” Carisi said, a little too eagerly, and instantly looked horrified by how unreasonably excited he had sounded at the prospect. “Shit, I just meant—” His blush deepened. “And now I’ve said shit. Twice. I’m making a great first impression, huh?”

Barba hid his smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “You could’ve said ‘fuck’ and then we’d have been in real trouble.”

Carisi grinned sheepishly. “Thanks,” he said. “I had the worst feeling this morning that I was gonna fuck up on my first day—” He broke off, and the assembled officers had difficulty hiding their laughter. “Goddamnit.”

Olivia was very clearly trying not to laugh as she said, “Anyway, we’ll let Barba get back to work. One of the officers will be outside if you need anything, and Carisi will meet up with you at the end of the day to escort you home.”

Barba gave them all a semi-curt nod before heading back into his office. He caught one more sight of Carisi’s flushed face before he closed the door, and as soon as it was closed, he sagged against it.

“This is going to be a problem,” he sighed.

* * *

 

Luckily for Barba — or not — it was a problem that he’d have to deal with later, since his day was swamped with the usual cases ranging from casual idiocy to truly nefarious perpetrators, all of whom Barba was determined to see behind bars.

Of course, come 3 o’clock that afternoon, Barba’s determination was wilting slightly, in desperate need of caffeine. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a problem — even though the coffee maker in his office was sadly broken, and Carmen out for the day on one of the rare personal days she took, he was still capable of walking down to the coffee cart outside One Hogan Place. But now, with a permanent escort, Barba wasn’t sure what the protocol was for coffee runs, and so resolved to soldier through without.

By 5 o’clock, he was deeply regretting that choice.

Barba ran a tired hand across his face. “Christ,” he huffed, staring unseeingly down at the case file in front of him, his already foul mood exacerbated by the lack of caffeine, “who do I have to fuck around here to get a cup of coffee?”

As if on cue, a knock sounded on his office, and Barba looked up, eyes widening when Det. Carisi stepped into his office holding two cups of coffee. “Hey,” Carisi said, with a smile that flashed those dimples at him. “Figured you could probably use an afternoon pick-me-up.”

Barba’s mouth went dry and he nodded mutely, watching as Carisi crossed over to his desk to hand him the coffee, noticing almost without intending to that Carisi stayed just a little too close to be entirely professional, perching on the edge of Barba’s desk as he took a sip of his own coffee. “So,” Carisi started, and Barba tore his eyes away from Carisi’s lips to meet his ridiculously blue eyes instead, “working on any exciting cases?”

Barba blinked. “I don’t know what someone who works joint terrorism would consider exciting,” he hedged, using the opportunity to rearrange the papers on his desk into a slightly less chaotic fashion, mostly just to give his hands something to do.

“I don’t know, the Mark Lincoln case seemed pretty exciting.”

Barba’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. “Were you reading up on me, Detective?”

Carisi shrugged, but a hint of pink appeared in his cheeks. “Not like that,” he protested. “I, uh, I’m actually in law school at the moment — night school, that is, at Fordham — and I try to keep an eye on all the high profile cases.”

“I wouldn’t think that a simple stalking and sexual harassment case would rank as high profile,” Barba said mildly, though just thinking of the case, where a man had been stalking his best friend’s wife, stung. The jury had refused to see past the romantic notions of unrequited love to see how problematic the entire thing was, and though not particularly high-profile, it was one of Barba’s hardest losses of recent.

Carisi’s expression softened somewhat. “It was a hard loss,” he said.

Barba snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“At least things are changing,” Carisi said bracingly. “I mean, just think, five, ten years ago, would there even have been a prosecutor who’d’ve been willing to try it?” He flashed a smile at Barba. “Even in today’s day and age, it was pretty incredible of you to do so.”

“Try telling that to my boss,” Barba said, though he sat back in his chair and studied Carisi carefully. “Tell me, why does a detective working joint terrorism have any kind of interest in sex crimes?”

Carisi looked briefly horrified. “Not because I’m, like, a pervert or something,” he blurted, and Barba barked a surprised laugh. “I mean, if that’s what you were thinking,” Carisi finished, bright red.

“It wasn’t, but I’ll keep that in mind,” Barba told him.

Still red, Carisi looked away and shrugged. “I started in homicide,” he told Barba, “and it was...hard. Cases came to us because victims were failed somewhere along the line, which meant we were always too late to do anything, you know? And with terrorism…” He shook his head. “We’re trying to stop any new crimes from creating victims, which is great but...we lose the human element. Half of my time is spent staring at a computer screen.” He shrugged again. “I feel like sex crimes is sort of the perfect in-between. There’s a lot of good work to be done there and an unfortunate number of people who need it.”

Barba nodded slowly. “That’s...admirable. And understandable.” He gave him a measured look. “So once you graduate law school and pass the Bar, does that mean you’ll be gunning for my job?”

Carisi laughed. “Nah, I think you’re safe, Counselor.” He glanced at the clock. “Any idea when you’re gonna be headed out for the day? No rush or anything, but I wanna make sure the unis stationed on your block know when to expect us.”

Barba sighed heavily and looked sourly at the clock. “Thanks for the reminder,” he grumbled.

“Like I said, no rush,” Carisi said. “We’re flexible to your schedule, I just don’t wanna miss anything.”

“Flexible?” Barba repeated. “As in, it doesn’t matter where I go or what I do, you’ll just be tailing me anyway.” Carisi just gave him a look and Barba sighed and drew a hand across his face. “You’re lucky I have very little social life to speak of. What would you do if I had a date?”

“Sit at the bar and look inconspicuous,” Carisi said promptly.

Barba raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t imagine Carisi looking inconspicuous anywhere he went. “Well, thankfully for both of us, the only date I have is with a glass of scotch and some Chinese takeout.”

“From the place near here or the one near your apartment?” Carisi asked. Barba stared at him, and it took a moment for Carisi to realize what he’s said, and he blushed again.

Barba really needed his heart to start having palpitations every time Carisi blushed.

Especially at this rate.

“We, uh, we had your assistant make up a dossier for us,” Carisi muttered. “Your usual movements and places you tend to go. To, uh, make things easier for us.”

“You have a dossier on me,” Barba said slowly. “That sounds like something out of a bad spy movie.”

Carisi’s answering smile seemed more nervous than usual. “Nothing that exciting, I promise.”

“Are you calling me boring, Detective?”

Carisi didn’t rise to the bait. “For the purposes of your protective detail? Yeah. And in this case, boring is good.” Barba rolled his eyes but didn’t, instead starting to gather some things together, figuring at this rate, it’d be easier to just work from home for the remainder of the evening.

There was no detective sitting just a little too close to him at home, after all.

“Good news is that with your protective detail, you don’t need to worry about getting a Lyft or Uber,” Carisi said in what he clearly thought was a helpful way, watching as Barba unceremoniously shoved files into his briefcase.

Barba shot him a mutinous look. “What if I want to walk?” he asked, more waspish than he really felt.

Carisi just shrugged. “You wanna walk forty blocks in the pouring rain, be my guest.” Barba glowered at him and he smiled. “I didn’t think so.”

“You think you know everything about me just because of some stupid dossier, don’t you?” Barba muttered, standing and brushing past Carisi towards the door, grabbing his coat on the way, and he was personally gratified that it took the detective a moment to catch onto the fact that Barba was leaving, with or without him.

“Not everything!” Carisi protested, trailing after Barba. “Just the basics. What I’d consider, you know, first date stuff. Background, education, work history, where you live, and so on.”

Barba raised an eyebrow at him. “I feel sorry for your dates if that’s what you spend your time discussing.”

Carisi blushed again. “You know what I mean,” he said, a touch exasperatedly. “The surface-level stuff.”

For a moment, Barba considered continuing to push it as he jabbed the button for the elevator, but the conversation had provided him an opportunity that he’d be an idiot not to seize.

And Barba was many things, but no one could call him an idiot.

“And you think it’s fair that you know so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about you besides your apparent desire to work in SVU while you pursue a law degree?” he asked mildly, stepping into the elevator, pretending not to notice that Carisi almost tripped over himself trying to follow him.

Carisi gave him a sideways look. “I mean, I’m an open book,” he said with another one of those smiles that made Barba want to melt, just a little. “Anything you want to know, just ask.”

“Well,” Barba said as the elevator door slid closed, “I suppose we could start with the ‘first date stuff’.”

Carisi sighed. “You’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?” he asked rhetorically before shaking his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Uh, there’s really not much to know. I’m 37, I live in Midtown but I’m originally from Staten Island—”

“You don’t say,” Barba muttered. Carisi ignored him.

“—my parents still live in the house I grew up in, right off of Hylan Boulevard. I’ve been an NYPD cop for 15 years. Catholic, never married.” He glanced at Barba. “What else do you want to know?”

The elevator dinged and they both stepped off, Barba using Carisi’s temporary distraction of putting his coat on to casually ask, “Single?”

Carisi looked startled for a second, then huffed a laugh. “Just ended things with my girlfriend, actually,” he said. “She, uh, she’s a journalist, and she used me as a source for a story without my knowledge.”

“Her loss,” Barba offered, and he was surprised to realize that he meant it. “I’m sorry to hear that, though.”

Carisi shrugged. “Yeah, well, my track record with ex-girlfriends and ex-boyfriends is pretty abysmal, so this is more or less par for the course.”

Barba laughed. “You know,” he said, “I’m responsible for putting half of the BX-9 gang in jail, meaning their rival gang owes me one. I could have them take her out for you.”

Carisi almost walked into the door, too busy giving Barba a horrified look to pay attention to where he was going. “Jesus,” he said, yanking the door open for Barba and giving him a look that was half amusement, half deep disapproval. “Please don’t tell me you just offered to put out a gang hit on the ex-girlfriend of a cop.” Barba just smirked and Carisi rolled his eyes. “Touched as I am by the offer,” he said dryly, “we were more or less over with anyway. That was just the last straw.”

Barba nodded. “Well,” he said, “if you change your mind…”

Carisi laughed. “I know where to find you. 24/7, in fact.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Barba sighed, but as he followed Carisi to the squad car, he couldn’t help but think that 24/7 didn’t sound so bad when that time was spent with Carisi.

Which meant he was well and truly fucked.


	2. Two Weeks Until Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah it's gonna be three chapters.
> 
> We are none of us surprised.
> 
> Still unbeta'd so again, patience with typo correction is as always appreciated.

Despite Barba’s protests that he hadn’t needed a security detail, a new round of threats sent just before Thanksgiving had convinced him otherwise, and he found himself unusually grateful on the holiday for the near-constant presence of Det. Carisi, which had somehow gone from irritating to familiar to almost comforting.

Which was simply pathetic.

But proximity aside, Carisi surprised Barba at every turn with how funny and smart he was, countering Barba’s arguments with well-researched legal points, never taking Barba’s unnecessarily snide comments at face value and always being willing to laugh off Barba’s more sour moods with that easy grin and those dimples.

Barba spent more time than he would ever willingly admit thinking about those dimples.

Even the approaching Christmas season couldn’t get Barba’s spirits down when he had time with Carisi to look forward to. And since they spent most evenings together, as Carisi would join Barba at his office at whatever time normal people got off work and seemed content to hang around for several hours until Barba was finally ready to head home, since he was shockingly good company and even on occasion made himself somewhat useful, whether it was helping Barba with research or even just lending an ear as Barba ranted after a particularly long or hard day, Barba found himself more than warming to the detective.

He found himself falling.

Hard.

In fact, it got to the point where Barba would keep an eye on the clock, waiting for it to approach 5, for Carisi to poke his head into Barba’s office and greet him with that dimpled smile that made Barba’s heart feel suddenly three sizes too large for his chest.

Even if they rarely made it anywhere other than his office or Carisi’s car, Barba was coming to value the time they spent together, so much so that he almost hoped they never found whomever was threatening him.

On the other hand, if they found the perp, Barba and Carisi could perhaps make their way to a third location. Like a bar. Or a restaurant. Or Barba’s bed.

Ok, he’d definitely rather they found the perp. Sooner rather than later.

“Detective,” Barba said, a little surprised, as Carisi met him at his office first thing in the morning, two cups of coffee in hand. “What’re you doing here at this time of day?”

“Your usual escort got pulled onto another case,” Carisi told him, handing over one of the cups of coffee before taking a sip of his own. “So since I’m not on any other major cases at the moment, I figured I’d cover until they got someone who can take the day shift.”

Barba glanced at him. “And I don’t suppose I could use this as justification for why I don’t actually need a security detail?” he said, his tone wheedling.

Carisi just laughed and shook his hand. “No deal, Counselor. Even if I was the one who made that decision — and I’m not — I saw the emails yesterday.”

“Which one?” Barba asked mildly. “The one where they threatened to firebomb my office, or the one where they said I’d never see them coming until I had a bullet in my head?”

Carisi flinched, his expression twisting as he looked away, and Barba winced. “Sorry,” he offered quietly, before adding quickly, “But luckily, I have New York’s finest watching my back, so. I’m not worried.” He looked up at Carisi, unable to keep a small, soft smile off his face. “Not in here.”

 _Not with you_.

Carisi’s expression softened as well, but before he could reply, someone cleared their throat from the doorway, and Barba turned, arching an eyebrow. “Lisa Hassler,” he said coolly. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“William Thornton.”

“You mean, former state Senator William Thornton who resigned in disgrace after it came out that he had assaulted no less than 15 female staffers?” Barba asked mildly, crossing over to his chair and sitting down, expecting a look of disgust to cross Carisi’s face the way it normally did whenever he heard the details of most SVU cases.

But instead, he looked almost mildly intrigued as he watched Lisa Hassler cross into the room, and Barba had to swallow the hot swoop of some unexpected emotion that turned his stomach. “Allegedly assaulted,” Hassler said, matching Barba’s tone as she sat down without invitation. “Only one of whom decided to try to bring charges against him rather than settle for a cash payout.”

“And what does that likely tell you about her story?” Barba shot back. “Not that it matters, this is Michael Guthrie’s case.”

“ _Was_ Michael Guthrie’s case,” Hassler corrected with a smile before glancing over at Carisi, who was hovering awkwardly next to Barba’s desk. “Who’s the arm candy?”

The same strange emotion as before coursed through Barba’s veins as Carisi reached out to shake Hassler’s hand. “Det. Dominick Carisi, Jr., Joint Terrorism,” he said, a little too enthusiastically for Barba’s liking. “I’m, uh, I’m in night school at Fordham Law, and I gotta tell you, I know all of your father’s cases.”

“Not to halt the journey down the Hassler Family Greatest Hits before it even begins,” Barba interrupted, a note of warning in his voice, “but I’m assuming you want something, Counselor.”

Her smile widened. “Just trying to save the taxpayers some money and see if we can get this pleaded down,” she said pleasantly.

Barba rolled his eyes and was about to respond when his cell phone rang and he glanced down at it, frowning. “I have to take this,” he said, “preferably without the audience, but since you seem _so_ comfortable in here, Lisa, I’ll step out.”

He did just that, stepping outside of his office to answer Olivia’s call. “What’s up, Liv?” he asked, looking back inside and watching as Carisi perched on the edge of Barba’s desk and smiled at Lisa Hassler.

Smiled that dimpled smile that Barba had begun to think of as something special. Something for him.

A dull flash of something painful ripped through Barba’s chest and he forced himself to look away, even if nothing Olivia was saying over the phone was registering to him.

He had a sudden realization what the dull pain still gripping the edges of his chest was, the same feeling that had burned in his stomach earlier: jealousy.

He was jealous of Lisa Hassler, and all because the detective with whom he had no relationship outside of purely professional was _smiling_ at her.

Barba had known he was fucked.

But he hadn’t realized until that moment just _how_ fucked he was.

He muttered some response to Olivia that was apparently satisfactory, since she ended the call, and then turned back to his office, freezing in place as he looked through the glass window.

Carisi was sitting far closer to Hassler than was remotely necessary, and they were both leaning in and laughing at something Hassler had just said. Barba's grip on his phone tightened as Hassler grabbed a business card from her bag and scribbled something on it before handing it to Carisi, who pocketed it with a dimpled grin.

That was the last straw.

Barba schooled his expression into something approaching neutral before he made his way back into his office, his shoulders straight, his head held high, even if he avoided looking at Carisi, who stood a little too quickly. “I’m afraid I’m not interested in a deal,” Barba said flatly, unbuttoning his suit jacket before he again sat behind his desk. “So you can feel free to go, especially since you’ll now have to prepare a defense.”

Something tightened in Hassler’s expression as she stood. “My defense is already prepared,” she said evenly. “All you’ve got on your side is the word of one very unreliable intern.”

“A very unreliable intern that your client cornered, plied with alcohol and then molested,” Barba said shortly. “I’ll see you in court, Counselor.”

Hassler swept from the room without another word, and Carisi watched her go before glancing back at Barba. “Everything ok?” he asked, sounding slightly concerned.

“Fine,” Barba said shortly, opening a case file at random and pretending to read it, but when Carisi continued to just stare at him, he looked up at him, his carefully constructed mask slipping slightly. “Can I help you with something, Detective?”

Carisi blinked and blushed slightly. “Oh, uh, no, I just assumed you’d want my help with—”

“You assumed wrong.”

It was as much a dismissal as Barba could muster, and Carisi looked understandably taken aback. “Barba—” he started, but Barba didn’t let him continue.

“Unless you need to discuss something related to my security detail, you can wait outside. I’ll be heading over to the courthouse soon.”

Carisi still didn’t move, and Barba mentally cursed his tenacity, almost as much as he cursed the hurt look that crossed Carisi’s face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Barba said, completely honestly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

After all, it wasn’t Carisi’s fault that Barba had completely misread the situation, misread the easy comfort that had grown between them the past few weeks, misread every look and glance and touch and smile and—

Everything he had apparently imagined between the two of them.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave, Detective.”

Carisi didn’t look convinced, not even remotely, but he still managed a short nod before crossing to the door, though he paused and looked back at Barba. “In case I did do something wrong,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

He sounded sincere.

That only made it worse.

Barba didn’t even look up to acknowledge his apology, staring determinedly at the case file until the words swam in front of his eyes. Even when the door was firmly closed behind Carisi, Barba still didn’t look up, trying not to let the simmering resentment still swirling in chest consumed him.

He wasn’t successful.

By the time he packed up his briefcase to head over to the courthouse twenty minutes later, his foul mood had only gotten worse, and spending the entire walk to the courthouse in stony silence didn’t help matters either.

Just to add a cherry on top of everything else, when he and Carisi got to the courthouse, Lisa Hassler was standing on the steps outfront doing a press conference with William Thornton. “The case doesn’t even go to court for another week, does it?” Carisi asked, frowning at them.

Barba ignored him, instead marching directly towards them, his frustration and his jealousy and his bitterness getting the best of him. “The fact of the matter is, the State of New York is making an example out of my client,” Hassler was saying, while Thornton did his best to stand silently next to her and look as innocent as possible. “Lacking any kind of evidence, they’re throwing the book at him because he misinterpreted the relationship he had with a colleague—”

“Misinterpreted?” Barba interrupted, stepping up next to her, his expression dark. “The only one doing any misinterpreting here is Miss Hassler, deliberately misinterpreting her client’s actions.” Hassler was glaring daggers at him but he ignored her, turning to face the reporters. “William Thornton used his position, his proximity, and his power over the situation to take advantage of Natalie McCutcheon. It’s not enough for millions of women to make Twitter and Facebook statuses saying ‘Me, too’. It’s not enough for celebrity after celebrity to be revealed as a rapist or a sexual predator. It’s not enough until we ensure that everyone who commits sexual assault is held accountable for their actions. And the State of New York looks forward to starting with William Thornton.”

He turned on heel and marched up the stairs, Carisi scurrying to keep up with him while avoiding the flock of reporters that followed, shouting questions after him. “That was amazing, Counselor,” Carisi said warmly, holding the door open for him.

“I know,” Barba said frostily, turning to frown up at Carisi. “And I’m quite safe inside the courthouse, Detective. There’s no reason to follow me inside.”

Carisi froze, his expression darkening with hurt once more, but this time, Barba didn’t look back as he stalked down the hallway, a swirl of emotions threatening to consume him, if only he would let them.

And if there was one thing that Barba wasn’t willing to let happen, it was that.

As soon as he was away from Carisi, he pulled his phone out and called Olivia. “Rafa, do you know what I just saw posted all over Twitter?” Olivia asked, practically gleeful. “Looks like Lisa Hassler’s got her work cut out for her.”

Barba laughed without any humor whatsoever. “Right. Well. I was actually calling about something else. I, uh, I need a favor.”

“Anything for the hero of the hour,” Olivia teased.

Barba closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering if he sounded as pained as he felt as he said, “Don’t ask me why, and don’t read anything into it, but I was wondering if it’d be possible to get a different detective to take over as lead on my security detail.”

Olivia was silent for a long moment, and Barba knew it was because she had a million questions she wanted to ask. “Is there a problem with Carisi?”

“Not a problem,” Barba said, a little too quickly. “Just...it’s not going to work out.”

“Ok,” Olivia said slowly, but she was slipping into her victim-soothing voice, and Barba hated the sound of it aimed at him. “Do I need to talk to him? Or—”

“There’s nothing that you can say or do to help the situation,” Barba said, his tone clipped. “Do I need to call Dodds or someone at 1PP?”

He knew that even suggesting going over her head was the fastest way to piss Olivia off, but in this case, it was also the fastest way to get her to do what he wanted. “No, I’ll take care of it,” she said in a clipped tone. “You maybe have to have Fin and Amanda take over in the short term until we can get someone on in a more permanent fashion.”

“That’s fine,” Barba said. “Thanks, Liv. I owe you one.”

She hung up without even joking with him, which only went to show how ticked she was, but Barba figured that if it meant never having to see Carisi again, it might just be worth it.

He got a text twenty minutes later from Carisi. _I’m being pulled from your detail…_ the preview on the lockscreen of his phone read, and Barba hesitated before deleting the message without opening it. Five minutes later, he got a text from Liv: _Fin will meet you tonight._

Barba breathed a sigh of relief and tried to pretend like his heart wasn’t breaking at the thought.

When court was done for the day, he met Fin outside the courthouse. “Sgt. Tutuola,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

Fin just nodded in response before leading him to his squad car.

They rode all the way to Barba’s apartment in silence, and Barba did his best to pretend he wasn’t missing laughter, or a Staten Island accent, or dimples that flashed even in the dim light of the car.

He tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt to realize that those were all things he’d never have again.


	3. Christmas Eve

It took Barba all of three hours to feel completely stupid for reacting the way that he did, and only three more beyond that for the stupidity to warp into something close to guilt.

But he felt neither stupid enough or guilty enough to call Olivia back, to change his mind.

Because at the end of the day, it was for the best.

There was no future there with Carisi, even if Barba hadn’t been misinterpreting things the entire time. Once the people threatening him were caught — and Barba had no doubt that they would be caught, eventually, that they’d slip up and reveal something, or, preferably, actually come after him — Carisi would’ve just gone back to Joint Terrorism anyway.

This way, Barba was spared from the inevitable future heartbreak heading his way regardless.

And maybe it was easier this way.

Of course, as the days steadily ticked towards Christmas, as Barba was greeted at the end of each day by an increasingly-bored Fin (Olivia had yet to find someone to permanently take over the assignment) instead of Carisi’s dimpled smile, Barba had to admit that he missed Carisi.

He missed their conversations late into the night when Barba stayed way too late at his office. He missed the way Carisi would always show up right when Barba most needed a break, coffee in hand, smile ready for him. He missed the ease and comfort that had built between them during those four weeks where Carisi was the biggest and most reliable presence in his life.

Which was truly pathetic. But Barba had never claimed to not be pathetic, especially when Carisi was involved.

He spent a not-insignificant portion of each day debating over whether to just call Carisi, or text, or email or _something_ , to apologize, to—

Well, certainly not to confess that he loved him, or anything ridiculous like that.

Barba had _some_ dignity he needed to keep intact.

At 5pm on Christmas Eve, when Barba was sitting alone in his apartment, nursing a glass of scotch, he had to admit his dignity may not be worth it.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone, figuring that even if the DA’s office had closed early, he could still get through some emails before the scotch numbed him to sleep. All he had to look forward to the next day was dinner with his mother, which was painful enough in normal years, let alone when he had to explain why there was a black sergeant with a sour expression who was accompanying him.

He had neglected to inform his mother about the death threats, and was grateful that only Fin and the other residents of Lucia’s apartment building would be around to witness the aftermath.

It would be the utmost of ironies if his mother killed him before those behind the threats had a chance to.

Sighing again, Barba looked back down at his email, struggling to focus as he scrolled through. He paused at one he didn’t expect: _Reminder: You have an ecard waiting for you at egreetings.com_.

He hesitated for only a moment before clicking on it. It was most likely spam, or else a joke ecard from Rita, but it _was_ Christmas, and he could do with a laugh. Tinny Christmas music emitted from his phone’s speakers, accompanying a fairly generic Christmas message about peace and goodwill towards man, but then the music faded and the sender’s message showed up on the screen.

And Barba felt his heart stutter at the words:

_Dear Rafael,_

_Merry Christmas, and I hope you have a very happy New Year. I don’t owe you an explanation, but I want to give you one anyway. Lisa Hassler offered to help me get a job when I graduate, and I took her card to be polite. I know what it must’ve looked like, but, since it’s Christmas — and if you can’t say it at Christmas, when can you? — I’ve already found the only lawyer I want in my life._

_With love,  
_ _Sonny_

Barba stared down at his phone, his heart beating painfully in his chest.

Then, abruptly, he stood, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing his coat before leaving, heading straight to where Fin was sitting in his squad car and rapping on the window with his knuckles. “You need something, Counselor?” Fin asked, sounding amused.

“I need to go to Staten Island,” Barba said.

Fin blinked, then shook his head. “Alright, get in,” he said. “It’s not like I had better plans anyway.” Barba cracked a smile and started to open the door, though he paused when Fin added, “One condition.”

“Anything,” Barba said instantly.

“Whatever explanation or excuse you’re planning on giving for why we’re driving all the way out to Staten Island on Christmas Eve — I don’t wanna know.”

Barba considered that for a moment. “Fair.”

Fin grinned. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

 

“You said Hylan Boulevard, right?” Fin asked. “Do you know the number?”

Barba peered down the street, the very real limitations of this harebrained plan suddenly shown into sharp relief. “Oh God, I have no idea and it’s the longest street in the world.”

“Maybe just the longest street on Staten Island,” Fin said with a chuckle. Barba slumped in his seat in despair and Fin shot him a look. “You do remember I’m a cop, right?” he asked, still grinning. “C’mon, what’s the name of the person you’re looking for? I’ll run it through the database.”

“Oh, it’s, uh…” Barba trailed off, hoping that Fin couldn’t see him blush in the dim light of the car. “It’s Carisi.”

Fin said nothing, just punching something into the computer in the dash. Then, under his breath, he muttered something that sounded an awful lot like, “Finally.”

“Got it,” he said, a moment later, before Barba could bring himself to offer the excuse or explanation that Fin had already said he didn’t want. “Only ten minutes from here. We’ll be there in no time.”

Barba was torn between excitement and sheer terror at the thought.

After what felt like either the world’s longest ten minutes or the fastest ten minutes man has ever experienced, Fin pulled the car over to the side of the road. “There,” he said, nodding towards a small house decked out in more Christmas decorations than Barba thought was physically impossible.

“Oh, dear God.”

He took a deep, steadying breath, and opened the car door, pausing when Fin did the same thing. “Sergeant, I highly doubt anyone in the Carisi household is going to want to kill me,” Barba said, slightly amused. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Fin snorted. “Like I’m gonna miss this,” he said, before adding, “Besides, I don’t know how pissed Carisi is, and I ain’t gonna take any chances.”

“Lord Jesus,” Barba sighed, rolling his eyes towards the heavens and pleading for strength before sighing again and adding, “Alright, let’s just get this over with.”

Together, they headed up to the front door, and Barba hesitated for only a moment before knocking.

After a moment, the door opened, and Barba looked down, surprised, by the little girl with serious blue eyes who answered the door. He knew instantly that she had to be the niece that Carisi had talked about. “Are you singing Christmas carols?” she asked.

Barba blinked. “Uh, no,” he said. “I was actually hoping to talk to Sonny. Is he here?”

The girl turned and shrieked over her shoulder, “Uncle Sonny!” before turning back to Barba with wide, innocent eyes. “You should sing me a Christmas carol anyway.”

Barba rolled his eyes, but Fin jabbed him sharply in the ribs. “When a kid asks you to sing, you sing,” he hissed.

Sighing heavily, Barba huffed, “Fine,” before trying to think of a Christmas carol that he actually knew off the top of his head.

The only one he could think of was ‘O Holy Night’, which wasn’t exactly made for singing acapella on someone’s doorstep, but—

“O Holy Night,” he started, his voice soft and cracking uncomfortably, though it strengthened when Fin joined in behind him, “the stars are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear Savior’s birth. Long lay the world in sin and error pining, til He appeared—”

Barba broke off as Sonny appeared behind his niece, looking confused, but Fin carried on singing in a surprisingly rich baritone, and all of them turned to look at him. “What?” Fin asked defensively. “A brother can carry a tune, thanks.”

Barba just shook his head and looked back at Carisi. “Um,” he said, which was a particularly eloquent way of starting the conversation off.

Before he could say anything else, the entire Carisi clan seemed to materialize out of thin air, gaping with open confusion at the African-American and Cuban-American men standing on their doorstep. “Shit,” one of what could only be Carisi’s sisters said appreciatively. “I know I ask Santa for a man every year, but I never thought he’d deliver.” She glanced between both Barba and Fin. “Let alone two.”

One of Carisi’s other sisters nudged her in the ribs and nodded toward Carisi, who had taken a step toward Barba, his expression soft. “I think he’s a Christmas present for someone else.”

“Typical,” the first sister grumbled.

Carisi cleared his throat. “Hi,” he said, sounding a little breathless as a slow smile crept across his face.

“Hi,” Barba said, smiling as well.

“Sonny, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” a woman who had to be Carisi’s mom asked.

“Oh, uh, right,” Carisi said, tearing his eyes away from Barba. “Uh, this is my ma, Tessa, and my pops, Dominick Sr.—” A tall man in the back of the group raised his hand in a cheerful wave. “—and, uh, my sisters, Teresa, Gina and Bella.” All three gave Barba identical evil grins and he winced at the sight. “And this is my niece, Fiona.” The little girl, who had grinned widely to reveal an absurdly adorable gap-toothed smile, waved up at him. “Everyone, this is ADA Rafael Barba and Sgt. Odafin Tutuola.”

Fin gave them all a nod. “I’m gonna wait in the car,” he said, making a hasty mistake.

Carisi’s mom was squinting up at him suspiciously. “Barba, hm?” she said, and Barba paled, wondering just what Carisi had said about him. But then she brightened. “Well, any friend of Sonny’s is a friend of ours.”

Carisi shot his mom a look before looking back at Barba. “I’d, uh, I’d invite you in, but we’re actually running late.”

“It’s Fiona’s first Christmas pageant,” Tessa said brightly, tugging lightly on her granddaughter’s pigtail. “All the local parishes get together and put one on each year, and it’s St. Charles’ first time hosting it.”

“Too much detail, Ma,” Carisi muttered.

Dominick Sr. cleared his throat. “Anyway, how can we help you, Mr. Barba?” he asked.

Barba blinked, realizing all too quickly that he had actual reason or excuse for showing up at the Carisi household on Christmas Eve. “Oh, um, I — I just needed Det. Carisi on some, um, official DA’s office business.”

Dominick and Tessa exchanged glances before Dom said smoothly, “Right, of course. Well, perhaps you’d better deal with this, Sonny. You can meet us at the church later.”

“Oh, no,” Barba said, panicked. “I, uh, I don’t want to make you late for Fiona’s pageant.”

Tessa pursed her lips. “Fiona would be _very_ disappointed,” she said.

Carisi gave her a dirty look. “She’ll get over it,” he grumbled.

“ _And_ the angel’s costume took me months,” Tessa continued, as if Carisi hadn’t spoken.

Carisi rolled his eyes. “It’s a white bathrobe and a halo made of pipe cleaners glued on a headband,” he said impatiently. “How could that possibly have taken you months?”

Tessa smacked him on the back of the head and Carisi winced. Barba cleared his throat before suggesting, “Why don’t I give Det. Carisi a lift to the church and he and I can discuss this DA’s business in the car.”

“Perfect,” Carisi said, grabbing Barba by the wrist and yanking him away from the front door. “See you over there!” he called over his shoulder as he dragged Barba back to Fin’s squad car. “Sorry about that,” he muttered, “but if I didn’t get you away from them, we were never gonna get out of there.”

“It’s fine,” Barba assured him, trying to remember how to breathe with the warmth of Carisi’s hand around his wrist, and he almost stumbled into him when Carisi stopped at the car. “You ok?” Carisi asked, slightly amused, holding the door open for him.

Barba glowered at him. “Fine,” he huffed indignantly, sliding into the backseat.

Carisi scooted in after him, and Barba automatically turned toward him, drinking in the sight he’d been missing for the past two weeks. Carisi looked even better than he remembered, even with what looked like a hand-knit stocking cap pulled low over his ears. “Hi,” he said again, with an almost shy smile.

Those dimples that Barba had thought he might never see again deepened as Carisi smiled back at him. “You said that already,” he pointed out.

Fin glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “You do know I’m not a chauffeur, right?” he asked.

They ignored him. “I wanted…” Barba started, before chickening out. “I wanted to say thank you. For the Christmas card. Well, Christmas ecard.”

“And I don’t know where we’re going,” Fin said loudly from the front seat.

“St. Charles Church,” Carisi said, not looking away from Barba. “It’s just around the corner.”

Fin rolled his eyes but started the car up anyway, and Carisi reached out to tentatively rest his hand on top of Barba’s. “Staten Island’s an awful long way from the Upper East Side just to say thanks,” he said evenly.

“It seemed like something that was better to say in person,” Barba muttered, and when Carisi just looked at him, he sighed and added, reluctantly, “And I wanted to apologize. I...may have overreacted.” Carisi gave him a look. “Ok, I _definitely_ overreacted. And I realize I could have handled it significantly better, and hopefully my actions didn’t have a negative impact on your career prospects.”

“Nah, I think Liv made up some kind of plausible excuse,” Carisi said, grinning. “Besides, all my bosses are mostly impressed that I lasted as long as I did. They, uh, they thought I’d get bored of babysitting duty, especially when the protectee has the reputation of being an asshole.” He hesitated. “I wanna apologize, too.”

“You don’t have to,” Barba interrupted, blushing slightly. “It was really all my fault.”

Carisi waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, I think we can split the blame,” he said easily. “Especially since, uh…” He shot Barba an almost nervous look. “Especially since I’m just really glad you’re here. I missed—”

“We’re here,” Fin said loudly. “You weren’t kidding, that really was just around the corner." When they ignored him yet again, he sighed. “I’m putting in for a transfer.”

“I missed you,” Carisi repeated, his smile soft and wide. “And I had hoped, uh, when this was all over, when the perps were finally behind bars…” He hesitated. “I had hoped to ask you to get dinner with me.”

Barba grinned as well, sure that he looked like an idiot and not particularly caring. “I would have said yes,” he said honestly. “Had you asked.”

Carisi scooted in closer, his knee bumping against Barba’s. “Well,” he said softly, “now that I’m not on your security detail, I guess there’s nothing stopping me from asking. Do you, uh—”

“Yes,” Barba said instantly.

Carisi’s answering grin was blinding, and he leaned in, reaching up to cup Barba’s cheek as he slowly closed the space between them and—

“Oh, hell no.” Fin swiveled and glared at them. “Not in my backseat. I deserve hazard pay for this shit.”

Barba and Carisi reluctantly pulled apart, though both were still grinning. “You should go,” Barba said gently. “It’s your niece’s pageant, after all, and you wouldn’t want to miss your mother’s hard work on the costume.”

Carisi rolled his eyes. “Hard work my ass,” he grumbled, even as he laced his fingers with Barba’s and squeezed his hand gently. “You should come with me.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Barba said, thinking about the rather unnecessary commotion that would accompany a same-sex couple showing up for a Catholic Christmas pageant. He squeezed Carisi’s hand gently. “But I will be very sorry to drive away from you.”

“I won’t,” Fin grumbled.

Carisi just shook his head. “Nah, I watched you leave once before, and I’m not inclined to do it again. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. And I insist.” Barba hesitated and Carisi gave him a look. “Don’t make me call in an APB on your ass. They’ll just drag you back here anyway.”

“Now there’s a tempting image,” Fin said thoughtfully.

Barba sighed but relented. “Fine,” he said, and Carisi’s grin alone was worth it.

Together they got out of the car and headed toward the church,  and Fin rolled the window down to shout after them, “I guess I’ll just wait here then?”

Once they were inside, Carisi and Barba made their way down the aisle to where Carisi’s entire family was seated, and if any of them were surprised to see Barba there, they didn’t show it. In fact, Tessa pointed to the far end of the pew, telling them brightly, “We saved a spot for you two!"

They sat down and Barba glanced around the sanctuary carefully before glancing at Carisi. “I didn’t realize they normally did Christmas pageants in the sanctuary,” he remarked.

Carisi shrugged. “Yeah, it’s borderline sacreligious,” he said cheerfully, “but you know how us Catholics are. We forgive it when it’s us doing it.” Barba snorted softly and shook his head, but before he could say anything, Carisi again rested his hand on top of Barba’s, his eyes soft as he looked at him. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I—” Barba started, though he was cut off by a stream of children making their way up to the front of the church. “I really wish I could say the same.”

Carisi laughed, and they both turned to watch the pageant, their shoulders pressed against each other. The pageant itself was fairly typical, a convoluted retelling of the Christmas story, made more complicated by the fact that every child clearly had to have a part (“I didn’t realize there were lobsters at the birth of Jesus,” Barba whispered to Carisi, who had to bite his lip to keep from laughing) and by the fact that seemingly every other line was punctuated by a thoroughly unnecessary song.

The beginning strains of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ filled the church and Carisi sighed heavily. “The kids insist on this every year,” he muttered.

“What would Jesus think?” Barba asked mildly.

“Uh, Jesus is clearly a huge Mariah fan,” Carisi said, grinning.

Frankly, there was nothing worse than the kidz bop version of Mariah Carey as performed by a hundred elementary school children from Staten Island, and Barba made it less than a minute into the performance before he turned to Carisi to mock it.

But there was a soft look on Carisi’s face as he gazed down at Barba, a look like maybe he was taking the words of the song to heart, just a little. And Barba’s own heart seemed to flip-flop at the very thought.

So even though it was the worst possible time and the worst possible venue, Barba couldn’t help but lean in and kiss Carisi.

For the briefest of moments, Carisi kissed him back, but then he pulled away and Barba froze, wondering if he might have misinterpreted things once again. But then Carisi rolled his eyes. “Not here,” he hissed, grabbing Barba’s hand and tugging him out of the pew into the side aisle, leading him towards the back of the church.

“Where are we going?” Barba whispered, slightly amused, as he followed Carisi up a set of stairs.

“Choir loft,” Carisi said in more his normal volume as they emerged in what was indeed the choir loft, overlooking the church. “No one will see us up here.”

“Well, that’s—”

Barba was cut off by Carisi’s lips on his, and he melted into the kiss, gripping Carisi’s sweater with both his hands as Carisi pushed him against the wall, kissing him hungrily. “Detective, I’m fairly certain this is blasphemous,” Barba managed jokingly, as Carisi pressed a line of kisses down his jaw, his breath catching as Carisi bit down lightly on the juncture of his jaw and neck.

“Jesus wasn’t even born in winter, so I don’t think he’d care all that much,” Carisi murmured before capturing Barba’s lips with his own once more.

Barba opened his mouth with a sigh against Carisi’s, perfectly content to spend the rest of the pageant tangled up in each other in the choir loft of a Catholic church on Staten Island, when one of the kids in the pageant announced loudly, “Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified!” and without warning, the choir loft was flooded with light, clearly meant to symbolize the angels in the sky.

Instead, as the parishioners swiveled to look up at the plastic angels that Barba only just now noticed adorning the edge of the choir loft, they were greeted with the sight of Barba and Carisi making out like teenagers.

A horrified silence fell over the church and Barba looked at Carisi, panicked. “What do we do now?”

“Smile,” Carisi said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “And bow. And wave. And then run like hell.”

So they did.

They burst out of the church and Carisi took one look at Barba’s face and doubled over with laughter. “When God strikes you dead for defiling His house of worship, you won’t be the one laughing,” Barba snapped, though he couldn’t help but grin a little.

Carisi just shook his head. “If you think that’s the first time I’ve been caught making out with a guy in church…”

“Oh, so now I’m not even special?” Barba huffed, but he was starting to laugh as well.

Carisi straightened and wiped his eyes before grinning at Barba, his expression softening. “Is it too corny if I tell you that all I want for Christmas is you?”

Barba rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said emphatically, though he softened it by leaning in and kissing Carisi. “But I’ll allow it. Mainly because…” He hesitated. “I don’t just want you for Christmas, Sonny,” he said honestly. “I want you for a lot longer than that — as long as you’ll have me.”

Carisi’s answering grin was as blinding as the lights on the choir loft had been, and he leaned in to kiss Barba once more, though he paused halfway, glancing up at the sky. “Well, would you look at that,” he said with a laugh, and Barba blinked as snow started gently falling.

He didn’t think he had ever seen anything as beautiful as Sonny standing on the steps outside of a church, grinning up at the sky, snowflakes clinging to his carefully coiffed hair and eyelashes and melting against the dimples that creased his cheeks.

“Merry Christmas, Sonny,” he said softly, closing the space between them to kiss Carisi once more.

“You know what?” Carisi said, running his thumb over Barba’s cheek. “I think it really will be.”

Their kiss was interrupted by Carisi’s phone pinging from his coat pocket, and Carisi sighed reluctantly and dug it out. “Sorry, it could be work,” he said, swiping to unlock it. “Or it could be Fin.” He snorted as he read whatever Fin had texted before reading out loud for Barba’s benefit, “Got tired of watching you two idiots make out. You’re in charge of Barba. Keep him safe and let him know I’ll meet him at his mom’s tomorrow.”

“A true Christmas miracle,” Barba said, grinning.

Carisi grinned as well, his smile turning dirty. “Well, you know what that means,” he said, pulling Barba closer. “I’ll have to spend the night with you. Just to make sure you’re safe.”

Barba recognized the innuendo for what it was, but it was with complete sincerity that he told him, “With you, I always am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to everyone who has indulged this bit of Christmas nonsense!!


End file.
